I am Thresh, I am a survivor
by CJ Timm
Summary: This four part story tells the tale of what actually happened to Thresh in the 74th Hunger Games. Told from his perspective, it looks at how he got into the position he did and examines some key events of the Games from his eyes. The ending may be a surprise but then so was Thresh because he played the Hunger Games his own way!
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

**74****th**** Hunger Games, Day 2**

I am Thresh. I am a survivor.

The plan could work. I'd need lots of focus and even more luck but then luck has been with me before.

I'm not going to play their game. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction. The girl from Twelve, 'the girl on fire' they called her, can have her act of rebellion. I'll have my own in my own way because I am Thresh. I am a survivor.

Sitting in the wheat field, waiting for the plan to unfold or the fates to take me I have lots of times to think, to remember. Rolling several heads of grain between my fingers the course familiarity is comforting. I crush them then pop the granules into my mouth.

This is a safe place, it's my place. Not even the Careers seem to want to come in here. They fear me. They should. There's only one in this arena that shouldn't be afraid. I'm not certain what would happen if it came to that…but it won't.

Yea, I have lots of time to think. While I'm alert, every sense alive to danger since threats are not restricted to Tributes, my mind naturally drifts back to how I got to this place and this opportunity to do things my own way.

I had a sense of dread the day of the Reaping. I wasn't quite sure why but I'd learned to trust my instincts. But then I had also been warned. I didn't want to believe the warning but my instincts said otherwise. They'd kept me alive so far. Once I'd thought I might age out and be past the possibility of being chosen for the Hunger Games then be able to live freely.

"Live freely?" I snort ironically to myself.

Live for what? To break my back toiling in the fields to provide food for the fat cats in the Capital? That's no life and that sure as heck ain't freedom. It had cost my dad his life dying in an accident and my mom worse…but I don't want to go there…maybe later. It was after that I learned to kill. So then I began to look at the Games differently. I wasn't eager to go. I was no bloodthirsty Career like some of those guys but I didn't fear it either.

Standing like cattle in the public square, we waited for the names to be called. Though irritated I'd been here before and had no fear. No, I would wait and see what the fates had for me but if an opportunity came, if THE opportunity came, well, I would grab it because I am Thresh. I am a survivor.

Then Rue was chosen as the female Tribute for District Eleven. Suddenly I hoped I wouldn't be picked. Even before the painted-up clown from the Capital who was to be our Escort pulled my name out of the grain basket used to pick (I guess they thought using something we toil with every day made it more special, fools) that sense of dread hit me like a storm flattening a field of wheat.

"The young man with the honor of representing District Eleven is Nguvu Dijambi," the idiot with the oily voice crooned.

It took a moment to register with the large crowd since I'd been known only as Thresh for as long as I can remember. It was a nickname given to me by my father when I'd first come to help him in the wheat fields even though I could barely walk. Despite my size and age I had actually been able to cut stalks with a small sickle and so as we left the field that day my dad had joked with the other men about his 'little thresher'. Eventually it had been shortened to Thresh and the name stuck. I guess the reputation for hard work and ability with the sickle reinforced it. I'm proud of the name and what it represents, as I'm proud of my father and how he lived his life. I always worked hard to bring honor to it.

If only people knew the whole story.

My sister groaned at the announcement and her shoulders dropped while my grandmother remained ramrod straight, not displaying her emotions. But I knew how she felt by the single tear that rolled down her tough features. I'd been not only provider for the family but protector and now…I don't have time to allow that to distract me. I have a plan and I need to stay focused.

The plan had been hatched a few months before the Reaping. Staarabu, who had been like a father to me after mine died, had talked about it. A way to beat the Games, to show the Capital didn't own us, he said. He carried the marks of rebellion with the whip scars on his back and the hand that had been chopped off. Still he worked, worked hard in the fields, producing more then other men his age despite his 'disability'. This was his act of continued defiance. But there was more to this hardened black man with a shaved head and penetrating eyes, there was wisdom. He'd been a friend of my father, had been there when he died and had helped shield me after the incident which defined me in many ways…

My body shudders involuntarily from the thought. I don't like to go there, to remember. It was something that had to be done and though I got away with it I didn't like it. I had nightmares about it right up until I came to this place.

Now I have new ones.

Like the scene at the Cornucopia at the start of my Hunger Games…what a title…Hunger Games. A time to remember and celebrate they tell us. It's a time to remember we're slaves to the excesses of the Capital. I don't know about what the other districts produce but we produce food and I know how much stays in our own area. We get enough, but just barely. The rest goes to the Capital to keep them happy. We have ways of making sure we get a bit more though. The Peacekeepers can't see everything and grain is a hard thing to count until it gets into the warehouses.

Cornucopia….horn of plenty. The word rolls around in my mind as I sit and involuntarily remember. We'd have a small one on our table at home in the fall before everything fell apart for us. It had been a good home, with laughter, singing and love. A place I felt safe and accepted. But that all changed in the span of a year and after that the laughter left and no one ever sang again. There was still love and acceptance from my grandmother and sister but I no longer felt safe. That was something I had to produce, like my plan to win the Hunger Games.

It could work.

No, the scene at the Cornucopia doesn't cause my shudder but it does make me sad. I killed to survive and get the things I needed for my plan but I didn't enjoy it. Kill or be killed. I hate it. That's why I never let any of the other Tributes get close to me except one. I had too, she was from home and I couldn't shut her out even if I wanted to.

Rue. The thought of her alone in this cursed place causes my anger to rise. I should be with her, helping her. But I can't, not if my plan is to succeed. In reality it means I won't help her since I have a choice. Anger boils at the injustice of the choices I've had to make already. To abandon one of my own…to kill…

I did what I had to do at the opening to survive, to win in my own way. I could kill all the other Tributes, even the mighty Cato, and win. Certainly the idiots in the Capital want me to, believe I can based on the score I received but I'm going to win in my own way. I won't give them the satisfaction.

After the names had been called during the Reaping Rue and I had been taken into the Justice Building to say goodbye. We were given fifteen minutes. How generous. My sister and grandmother came in. They didn't need fifteen minutes. What can you say at a time like that? The pain on their faces was evident despite their best efforts to hide it. That made my blood boil, it still does even now. But Staarabu had come in as well. The Peacekeepers made no attempt to stop him since everyone now thought of him as my father. What did it matter anyway? What could he do?

Plenty.

"Nguvu," he began, using my proper name again, but with a look of intensity I'd not seen in him. "Remember what we talked about in the fields last week. Remember the plan. You can do it. You are a survivor. Work with your Mentor, listen to him and really live."

He moved in and held me in a fatherly embrace but as he broke the clinch he whispered in my ear, "Find me."

I plan to.

Initially I'd thought of the plan as just some form of idle conversation on a break from working in the fields but then Staarabu had always been different. People said he knew when certain things were going to happen. They said he had 'the second sight'. I don't know, it sounded like superstition to me but then he did seem to know.

Just before the Reaping he had one of those strange looks as he maneuvered me away. "Nguvu, the Reaping is coming very soon," he stated matter of factly.

"I know," I answered, not really wanting to think about it. I'd not taken any Tesserae so the odds of me getting picked were low.

"The Arena is not an open-ended place, it has boundaries you know," he explained, with a forceful look in his eyes. "The boundary is like a fence. It's a force field really but not like a bubble. It has a top. Chaff has told me about this. He's seen it and he also knows it from another one of the Victors who used it to win his Games. Do you understand why I am telling you this Nguvu?"

Suddenly I remember getting a cold chill as his reasons for having this conversation became clear, why he was telling me about the memories of one of our previous District Hunger Games victors. Chaff didn't talk much about it. He spent a lot of time drinking, to forget Staarabu told me. I understand that now. To his credit, though Chaff didn't have to work being a champion, he was now rich, he often did anyway to continue to show defiance and stay connected to the people despite his lack of one hand. That might be why he got along so well with Staarabu. Anyway, he knew about the Arena.

If Staarabu was talking to me about the Games in this way, since we'd never talked about it before he knew something. He knew I was going to be picked. Suddenly this was no longer a theoretical exercise. "I'm beginning to understand," I replied to him. "Tell me what you mean by this."

"If there are boundaries and there is a fence then it can be crossed and someone could leave the Arena. Nguvu, the Games can be beaten."

We sat the rest of the break talking about this and every spare moment until the Reaping, coming up with a plan to win the Hunger Games our own way and beat the Capital. In the back of my mind I kept hoping he'd be wrong, that I wouldn't be picked, but I knew he was right. I told no one about it, secrecy was critical but by the time my name was called I was ready and from that moment on every effort and thought had been to winning the Games because I am Thresh, I am a survivor.

My Mentor turned out to be the very man Staarabu had mentioned to me: Chaff. Standing just over six feet tall he had dark skin like me. He was older, in his 40's, having won the Games nearly 30 years ago. There was still fire in his eyes but also deep sadness. Though everyone seemed to only notice the stump at the end of his arm there was more to this combative man. I liked him as I liked Staarabu.

Chaff worked me hard to prep me for the Games but at times when we knew we were alone and not being overheard he talked about finding the barrier by accident. He also mentioned a victor from another District who had used it to help him win his Hunger Games. Chaff prepared me well for this. Then, just as I walked into the tube to take me into the Arena from the Prep Room he took my hand, embraced me then looked into my eyes saying, "Win your way. Win for all of us."

Win. Win what? My freedom? Yes, I would be free if I can escape from this horrid place but I also know I'll be a hunted man. The Capital would never let me live. They couldn't since it would show weakness. I'd be hunted down and killed. No, my winning has a different purpose. This world we live in is sick and needs to change. I'm not just talking about disease and a lack of food but sick in that we find this kind of event entertaining. Reality television we call it. I'm just as bad as the others. I watched the Games in the past, cheered for our people, cursed when they were killed then went back to my existence, numbed a little bit more. I was like a robot. Life has value, not just my life but all life. We've forgotten that in the relentless pace of trying to get ahead, to have enough. Things have to change. Though few will likely hear of what I've done, if I get the chance, my hope is it'll create a ripple effect that will bring change. Then maybe, just maybe, things will change and the people of Panem can find their real purpose and live. I do need to win my way, win for all of us. God help us if we continue with this insanity.

So I sit in the wheat field and wait for the right moment. I bet it makes for lousy TV ratings. Good. I hope I bore them, infuriate them so then they know they don't own me.

_ Boom!_

The cannon just went off meaning another poor sod has just died for the good of higher entertainment. I guess I'll find out tonight who it is when their picture is flashed up. I'll bet it's not the girl from Twelve. I wouldn't be surprised if she won it all. I hope it's not Rue. Regardless, this is one step closer to my plan. For now, I stay alive but it's only Day Two of the Hunger Games, a lot could still happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

**74****th**** Hunger Games, Day 8**

What a joke! Those idiot Careers had their precious stash of goods blown up by some other Tribute. Good on them. Maybe they'll find out what it's like to suffer a bit. To think anyone would actually train for and then try to be part of something like this. It's sick.

They wanted me to join them before this all began. As if.

They'd get me to do all their dirty work then stab me in the back to claim the win. I know their type-opportunists…takers. Get Thresh to do the heavy lifting then kill him. I can see it. Afterwards the people in the Capital would quietly speak in reverence about me and 'how close I made it'. Forget it. I may not be the smartest guy in the world but I could smell that one a mile away. No, if I was to work with anyone it wouldn't be them. This is better for me. I work alone. My wheat field and the tall grass surrounding it gives me comfort, it reminds me of home. Maybe I'll actually see it again some day.

What's it today? Day seven? Eight? What day of the week is it? Funny how time becomes a bit fluid when you're going through something like this. You'd think I'd know exactly when it is since I have lots of time to think and remember. Too much time really.

I'd heard the explosion coming from the area of the Cornucopia and at first thought it was a trick to get me to come out of my position. I haven't really seen anyone since the second day when I'd established myself in the wheat field. One boy had tried to take it the first day but then the cannon went off after that. The next day the Careers made a move, thinking they could flush me out but barely escaped with their lives. After that it was pretty much just me and my memories.

By the time of the explosion I was getting pretty bored and looking for a bit of a challenge. I wasn't planning on doing anything stupid, just taking a look. If things didn't seem right I could fall back quickly to my position. Now wasn't the time to take foolish risks. I can be patient. I can wait for my opportunity for the plan to come together because I am Thresh, I am a survivor.

By the time I got to the Cornucopia where the Career pack had set up it was obvious pretty quickly this was no trap. The smell of burnt gear and explosives still hung in the air. I'm not sure how whoever did this got it to blow up but the whole thing was brilliant. The scene was total chaos. A bunch of the Careers were still running around in circles yelling at each other even though it had happened a while ago. So much for discipline. I thought about taking a run at them right there. I probably could have taken most of them out, or at least scattered them but it wasn't time. Regardless, things are going to start to get interesting now.

So here I sit, waiting, one step closer to my opportunity. Chewing on some grain, drinking from a gourd of water from the stream close by I know the pace is going to pick up. I can't imagine the Careers know how to forge for food and they look like they're used to eating so they'll need to press out. We're moving closer to the opportunity but also things are going to get more dangerous. Anyway, resolution is coming. Either I'll be dead or loose. Either way I'll be free.

More cannon shots. We're getting closer to the end. I'm beginning to think that if I play this right I may be able to set it up that Rue wins. That would be amazing. I'll see tonight when they flash the faces up in the sky and plan my next move.

Who's left though? There've been two cannon shots shortly apart today. Like a festering wound opening up from that time to now I have that same sense of dread come over me. Not for my own safety, at this point I care little about that. It's freedom or death for me. No, it's growing concern for another. One I could have helped.

Have I been selfish? So focused on my plan? So focused on the futility of being a Tribute and what I can't do that I've lost sight of what I CAN do? Even a Tribute has options, has choices. I thought I overheard the blond haired boy from District 12 say that one day in our training. He's right. Everything about what I'm doing is to exert choice but have I forgotten to think of others besides myself?

I pray I'm wrong about the growing sickness in my stomach. The sun is going down and in a short while they'll let us know who died. Suddenly I have no appetite; all I can do is wait. Before I know it, before perhaps I'm ready, the big seal of Panem is in the sky and the anthem is playing. The boy from District 1 flashes up first, that's a surprise, then my heart begins to beat wildly. It takes only a nanosecond since the next one shines up seconds later: Rue.

"No!" I scream not caring if anyone hears. "No!"

Hot tears bubble them gush from my eyes. Emotions I've kept contained for the whole Games and likely for years erupt like a volcano. My body is wracked with grief as I fall to the ground unable to control my spasmodic reaction to the news.

_ Vulnerabl_e my mind screams.

Any of the others could walk into my domain right now and kill me. But I don't care. They can do with me what they want. I don't care. Yet again I've failed to protect someone I was capable of. I was so focused on my own goals and plan I let Rue down, let my people down. Curled up in the fetal position I weep in the wheat field until I have no tears left.

My body comes alive with a shudder as sparkling sunshine warms my face. Like lightning I'm up on my feet, curved sword out, ready to strike. Wildly my eyes scan around looking for danger but there's none. I've slept all night, likely my longest sleep since the Games began.

I'm not in danger. Not at this moment anyway.

As my heart rate starts to slow and my breathing goes back to normal I remember the night before, remember my failure. But then I remember what put us here, put her and I, all of us really, in this kill-or-be-killed position.

The Capital.

My hatred grows. My determination to win in my own way surges because now I'm not only doing this for my family but now for Rue as well. Should I seek revenge on those who killed her? No. I don't even know who did it plus that's the nature of the Games. But still…

The memory from my past, buried for years, comes flooding back involuntarily at the thought of Rue dead. It's a catalyst I try to fight but can't. Bile rises up into my throat as my stomach churns. Then rather then fight the memory like I've done for years I let it out and embrace it. Rather then fear it I seek to draw energy from it to beat the Capital at their own game.

I can still see the look on his face as he ravished my mother like it was last night rather then ten years ago. A smirk. No, it was more. A look on his puffy, painted face that said 'I can take whatever I want because I'm from the Capital and have I power'. I stood watching, frozen in fear and disbelief, unable to move, unable to do anything. What could I do? Two Peacekeepers were outside our home to ensure no one disturbed the 'discussion' going on inside. After he finished he just left her there without any concern. He dropped a couple of coins on the table, winked at me as he passed and left with a promise he'd be back. That night I heard my mother cry in a way I'd not ever heard her before, not even when dad died. Something deep within her welled up, a sorrow of loss I didn't understand. But I felt so helpless despite my anger at the outrage at what had happened. Outraged I could do nothing but even more so that the Capital would allow this type of thing to happen and no one could do anything about it. We're cattle, a commodity, here only to serve their purposes and pleasures, feed their appetites. I felt so helpless but then what could an eight year old do? In reality, what could anyone do in these circumstances?

My mother started to go into convulsions, her body wracked with seizures coming from deep within. My sister ran to hide but I stayed. Stayed as my grandmother did everything she could to get her to stop. She called for a healer to come but it was too late. Suddenly mom stopped spasming and became very still. She died right there, just like that. No one was sure why but I think it was because of a broken heart. First my dad had been taken from her and then this.

From then on there was no more singing in our home.

I stood in the drizzle under a slate gray sky as we buried my mother. I don't remember the words too much though I do recall something about her being in a better place. That was some comfort and not really a surprise since any place would be better than this. But then I saw the monster from the Capital walk by with some other officials, laughing like he didn't have a care in the world, totally oblivious to what was going on only feet away.

Something snapped inside me. The indignity was more then I could handle. I broke away from the family friend who was trying to comfort me and ran at the animal as fast as I could. Engrossed in conversation I was on him before he could react. By the time they pulled me off, still flailing away, I'd broken his nose. Despite the punishment I received later on I had the satisfaction of knowing I'd taken something from him like he'd done from me. That was the first beating I was to take but it was worth it. I didn't cry despite how much the lashes hurt. I wouldn't give him or the others the pleasure.

From there I waited patiently for my opportunity to decisively strike back, allowing my rage to grow. I worked hard in the fields to strengthen my body and took pride in the fact people said I worked harder then someone twice my age. Staarabu spent a lot of time we me. We didn't talk much; there wasn't much we could talk about. His presence though helped a lot, like salve for my broken heart.

It took two years of waiting but my opportunity came. The official had been transferred to another area but eventually came back. It seems he'd forgotten about what had happened before, forgotten about my mother, forgotten everything. Maybe excess dulls the senses or the other women he was having 'discussions' with did it. Life was his oyster. I didn't care. It made what I had to do easier. Finally ready, I slipped out of my home in the dead of night to sneak over to where the Capital people lived. And there was Staarabu, standing, waiting, as if he knew ahead of time.

Coming out of the shadows Staarabu looked me in the eyes and said, "Are you sure of this Nguvu?"

He knew but didn't move to stop me.

"I have to. For mom and the others," I answered, my voice a bit shaky.

"You know you shouldn't. It's wrong," Staarabu acknowledged. Then his tone changed, the ideal pushed out by the reality. "But so much of what happens here is wrong."

"You think I shouldn't?" I asked, starting to hesitate.

"If this was about revenge I would stop you. But this is about justice, about bringing recompense to an animal who is untouchable by their system," Staarabu stated quietly, his face clouded. "As much as I hate it, there's no other way. It has to be you since you have claim. Just don't let it steal your soul Nguvu."

I understood what he meant and also caught in the darkness the intense sadness in his eyes that I was the one who had to undertake this act. Yet another thing the Capital had taken from us. I didn't stop to ponder if two wrongs made a right. I didn't have that luxury.

"Do it quickly and strike a blow for all of us," Staarabu declared.

Bolstered by the confidence he'd shown in me I moved on making my way to where I knew this man to live. I could see movement inside the fancy house. Good, I wanted him to see me coming and see his end.

I let myself in and stood, waiting, in the opulent kitchen. Looking into the pantry I couldn't believe someone could have so much food. Then he walked in.

"What are you doing here at this hour? Begging?" the chubby man declared pompously. "Trying to steal from me? Well good luck." Then he seemed to recognize me, unconsciously rubbing his nose. "Oh, it's you."

"My mother….," I choked out, suddenly unsure of this. It was one thing to think about taking another person's life, to fantasize about it, but another thing to really do it.

"Get out of here kid unless you want to be whipped across the town," he snarled. Then his look changed to that same confident smirk I'd seen two years before as he sensed my hesitancy, "or maybe instead I'll come and visit your sister."

That was all the push I needed. In a flash I leapt on the man like a panther. The shock registered on his face brought some satisfaction to me. His feeble attempts to defend himself were easily battered aside then I had my hands around his head and was twisting.

"Please…no," he whimpered.

"You'll never hurt anyone again," I hissed then twisted hard hearing a snap.

The whole village went into a lockdown as the head Peacekeeper began to investigate the murder of the official. Though we suffered there was a resolution among the people. Everyone knew who did it but no one spoke, even when a reward equivalent to nearly fifty years of wages was offered.

The Peacekeepers tried to pin it on me but I wouldn't speak. Staarabu loudly proclaimed that the idea of a ten year old being able to break the neck of a fully grown man was crazy. Still, they brought me into the public square and flogged me anyway. Whether they knew and couldn't prove it or just wanted to punish someone I never found out. I didn't care. I never cried and I never spoke of it.

I am Thresh. I am a survivor.

And now here I am, killing again and Rue is still dead. This has to change, things have to change. This insanity we call a life has to change. Maybe my action will start a chain reaction. People will begin to think, really think, rather then just react. May my example be a catalyst to change so we can truly live rather then merely exist. I need to stay alive. I need to win my own way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

**74****th**** Hunger Games, day 11**

It's been quiet the last few days. There's only six of us left. The lack of action has to be bad for the ratings which means something's going to have to happen soon. I can feel it. The announcement that there can be two winners this Games if they're from the same district infuriates me. That has to be directed to the pair from Twelve or the Careers from Two. I think they're the only potential ones who are left. Will that mean they'll come and hunt me? Let them, I can handle it. But the idea that somehow Rue and I could have walked out irritates me even more.

"No," I whisper to myself. I won't win that way, not on their terms. It would have had to be her and her alone. I wouldn't return to be paraded around the country like a monkey then live in Victor's Village killing myself through drink like Chaff. I'm doing things my way. So nothings changed.

My instincts are proven correct yet again when I hear the trumpets sound an announcement and that fop Templesmith's voice boom out, "Attention Tributes. You are invited to a feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia."

As if. I have all the food I need though it may be an opportunity to take out some of the others.

"Now hold on," Templesmith's voice croons. "Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately. Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."

What do I need? I can't think of anything immediate. What could the others need? Is it a trap? Not likely. That doesn't make for good ratings. Curiosity begins to gnaw away at me like rats with a fresh piece of cheese. What do they think I need? Have I missed something with all my planning? Have they figured it out? No, that's not possible. Curiosity wins out. I'll be there at dawn and see what happens. One step at a time.

I don't sleep but merely rest until the twilight of the new day. I move off in the darkness which gives a strange sensation. The wheat field has been my home during the Games and it's provided a strange sense of comfort. How quickly we fall into patterns, even in deadly times like these and begin to settle. Part of my mind nibbles at me to stay. I have everything I need in the wheat field but I force myself to move if only to stay sharp since at some point if my plan is going to happen I'll have to leave.

To think that the arenas become tourist attractions after the Games makes my stomach churn. How sick is that? Are people so desperate to experience something that they 'live' through connecting with this type of place? Why don't they go and make their own experiences rather then live through these manipulated reality television shows? Things need to change. May my action be more then a ripple in the pond. May it be a catalyst for change even if people don't know about it. No, it's time for a new way.

I'd not thought a lot about life and what it could be since I'd spent so much time just trying to survive in Eleven, just going from one day to the next. Then, spending what's felt like a lifetime in the Hunger Games and truly trying to survive has changed that. I now realize what a gift life is, what an opportunity it holds, even in a circumstance as mundane as being a farmer in District Eleven. I realize that even though the drama of life seems to unfold around us we have a part to play, that we have a chance to do more then exist but truly live. Yet people around Panem hang on every action in the Hunger Games, as if that will change their lives rather then dull the senses like some narcotic. They've accepted a slothful existence rather then a vibrant life despite the circumstances.

I don't get it.

"Thresh the philosopher," I chuckle quietly to myself. It's the first time I've heard the sound of my laughter since the reaping. But then what have I had to laugh about? This is business. Maybe I'll laugh again. I'd like that.

I can see the silhouette of the Cornucopia against the graying morning sky. It won't be long now. Then a thought hits me like lightning: what if things begin to come to a conclusion at dawn? Remembering the opening moments of the Games and the bloodbath at this cursed place before it could certainly happen, especially when there's treasure involved, something not only to acquire but win. I need to stay focused and not get distracted by this since I'm not ready. I'm out of position. No, I can't let that happen. Things have to go on my terms. I'll make sure of it or take a pass on whatever the Capital wants to temp me with.

Dawn breaks glorious above the tree line. It'll be another brilliant day in the Arena. This certainly is a beautiful place. That is except for….

My train of thought is broken. Movement from within the Cornucopia. It's the red-haired girl from District Five with the long thin face. She's positioned herself inside the thing sometime during the night. Gutsy move. Almost from the moment the duffle bags with our district numbers appear from below she's grabbed hers and is already dashing towards the woods. I have to admire the girl. To get to this point despite her obvious lack of strength and physical ability really shows something. No one will catch her this morning. I remember her from training-quiet, elusive, shifty. Just the type to win it all. Good on her I say.

She's long gone by the time my thought finishes. Good, the Games will carry on beyond this moment. Let's see who's next. I see the dark-haired girl from Twelve come creeping out from the tree line, gingerly moving towards the Cornucopia, eyes darting around. The Fire Girl, again, not surprising she's still alive. She has a bow with arrow loaded. Dangerous. I think I'll wait and see what happens since I can sense some movement off to my right. Yes, it's the crazy girl from Two, Clove. Man, that chick is nuts. I remember her bragging about her fighting ability and boy did she like knives.

Fire Girl is alone. I wonder where her partner from Twelve is? Hunting others? No, that's not his style. He was one who impressed me. The boy wasn't scared of the Games but he wasn't thrilled by them either. He seemed like me one who wanted to do it his way, with dignity. Who knows? We might have been friends.

Fire Girl and the other guy, Peeta I remember his name, can both can win now so should be working together. Are they laying a trap? It doesn't seem like it. At this distance I can see the desperation on her expressive face. Maybe the guy's wounded and she needs some medicine for him. That would make sense.

Wonder what's in my duffle bag? Not important. I need to focus. I don't see the big dog, Cato either. These guys don't know anything about tactics. So it's just the two girls it seems. Okay, this could provide an opportunity for me to thin the pack. Fire Girl has moved to within the shadows of the Cornucopia and Clove is moving around the blind spot getting ready to strike. Looks like the cannon's going to go off soon. I see a chance and begin to move closer myself since both now are in their own zones.

Perfect.

The dash to the open-mouthed golden horn takes me seconds and I'm barely breathing as I move my way carefully around it. I hear the sound of yelling and struggle as I inch my way around to see what's going on. Clove's on top of Fire Girl and has her pinned down. Knife in hand she's taunting her, toying with her which really bothers me. Fine. I'll wait for Clove to do her thing and nail her in the blind spot. I'd have had trouble killing the girl from Twelve anyway, but Clove? That'll be easy. I scan around to make sure there's no one else in the immediate area then move in.

"We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally….what was her name? Rue? Well, first Rue, then you," Clove hisses with glee.

My feet won't move at the grisly recollection. I'm frozen in space by the declaration. Clove continues to taunt the girl from Twelve. She has her adversary totally incapacitated, could kill her at any moment but she's looking for more, for sport, to turn it into a spectacle, threatening to cut her up. It's sick. Something begins to boil up inside of me. Rage, no, outrage. Clove is about to carve the girl from Twelve up starting with her mouth.

I won't let that happen.

Instead, swiftly stepping out I grab Clove by the collar and haul her off the helpless Tribute.

"What did you do to that little girl? You kill her?" I demand angrily.

"No, no, it wasn't me!" she cries out, fear showing in her cold eyes.

"You said her name. I heard you," I shake her like a rag doll. "You kill her?" Then my outrage boils over as I connect the dots in the drama of this sadistic girl and Rue. Hardly wanting to ask but anger red hot now I yell in her face, "You cut her up like you were going to cut this girl here?"

"No! No, I….Cato!" she screeches.

In an instant I slam her multiple times into the Cornucopia feeling her body go limp. Letting it fall I pick up a rock nearby and bash her in the skull. Clove lays crumpled on the ground, life ebbing from her. Though satisfied there's no joy or happiness in my actions. I'm sickened at what I've done, though it had to be, sickened at the Capital and what they're doing to us, sickened anew Rue had to die.

Then I turn and face the Tribute from Twelve, almost as an afterthought. She seems transfixed but what's just happened. I can feel my chest heaving up and down, not from exertion but the adrenaline of rage.

"What'd she mean? About Rue being your ally?" I demand to know, still seething.

"I-I-," she stammered, "blew up the supplies. I tried to save her. I did. But he got there first. District One."

"And you killed him?" I ask gruffly, suddenly conflicted in a way I haven't been since the beginning of the Games.

"Yes, I killed him. And buried her in flowers and sang her to sleep."

I can see tears welling up in Fire Girl's eyes but it's not fear. She's bleeding from a nasty gash on her forehead but it's not pain either. This one isn't afraid to die. In some ways she may even welcome it. In that we have a kindred spirit. No, hers are tears of loss, for the loss of Rue.

"To sleep?" I ask abruptly, a bit confused by the conflicting emotions inside but feeling something new stirring inside of me.

"To death. I sang until she died," Twelve responds. "Your district…they sent me bread." She looks afraid now, suddenly fearful of death. "Do it fast, okay, Thresh?" she begs.

I realize I'm still holding the rock I bashed Clove's skull with in my hand, gripping with white knuckles. They sent her bread? That would be Staarabu and the others. I can't kill this girl despite how easy it would be, despite how the Gamesmakers would want me to. I can see the viewers in the Capital on the edge of their seats waiting for the moment, ready to rise up and cheer my 'victory'. I can't do it. I won't do it.

I let the rock drop to the ground.

"Just this time, Twelve. For Rue," I declare trying to contain my emotions. I feel again something other then anger, in control and suddenly with a sense of hope. I'm making a statement that's long overdue. "You and me, we're even then. No more owed. You understand?"

That one was for the audience and lackeys running this perverted show. But there's no way I'm going to kill this girl. Never.

I hear the sound of Cato's voice coming closer, desperately calling out Clove's name. Too late dude. I should stay and finish him off, but it's not time. Not yet. Then I see the numbered duffle bags sitting on a table in the Cornucopia and know how I'm going to draw Cato in when it's time.

"You better run Fire Girl," I warn the one from Twelve, whose name I remember as Katniss. A look of relief and gratitude spontaneously lights up her face as she scrambles to her feet and runs away, arms pumping with her duffle bag. I feel good, for the first time in a long time.

Grabbing the remaining duffle bags I wait long enough for Cato to see I have his and then run back to my refuge. I know he won't come after me, not yet anyway. He'll check on Clove.

Returning to my sanctuary I sit down and have a drink of water needing to process all that happened at the Feast. Though aware of what's going on around me, ready for Cato to attack I need to think through everything. Then I realize somehow I dropped the District Two duffle bag.

"Crap," I say to myself in frustration. How did that happen? Must have been when I was running or more likely the Gamesmakers had some kind of release switch in the straps they could use since they didn't want me to have it. They're likely ticked I didn't kill the girl from Twelve or wait for Cato for a big showdown.

"Screw them," I whisper to myself. I'm not playing their game anymore. I'm going to do it my way. I am Thresh. I am a survivor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

**74****th**** Hunger Games, day 13**

Surprisingly nothing has happened for a few days other then a ton of rain. I'm soaked and miserable sitting in a copse of trees. What's up with all this? I thought they were going to end it with the Feast. I guess not. Maybe they're letting some who are wounded recover for the grand finale.

This whole thing's demented. I'm sick of it, playing the Capital's stupid game. I want out but I need to wait for the moment. Still, something tells me it's coming soon.

Then, a respite from the rain. Doesn't matter. Everything's soaked in the wheat field. But then I don't need to worry about that. In my duffle bag are food supplements which have kept my strength up. I guess the Gamesmakers knew what was coming so wanted to make sure I'm prepared for it. Likely they're hoping for an epic showdown between Cato and me. Well, they'll get a showdown of sorts. I wonder again what was in his bag. Too bad I couldn't have hung on to it.

A cannon goes off and suddenly I hope it's not the girl from Twelve…Katniss.

Then it starts to rain again. Our keepers must have gotten what they wanted. Rain? Monsoon would be a better way to describe it. The rain comes down in sheets, wind howls and thunder begins to rumble. It's altogether miserable but has also presented me with an opportunity. Lightning begins to rip the sky apart. It's an altogether impressive spectacle which I'd enjoy if I wasn't trying to stay alive.

It's time.

It's taken a while but I've located the cameras in my 'kill zone' plus I think I have an understanding of their pattern leading away from the center of the Arena. For this to work I have to draw Cato in, take the cameras out, beat him off, then try to make my escape from the Arena. Seems impossible, no improbable. But not for me.

The times now. This storm's the perfect mask for my plan. The Gamesmaster is bringing this to a conclusion. No more waiting, it has to be today.

Yes, Cato's going to be the one. After the scene at the Cornucopia I don't want to see the girl from Twelve again. If I have to kill someone for this to work it'll be that arrogant jerk Cato. But how to draw him in? Someone's going to have to make a move.

Okay, so how do I make this happen? Cato's not likely to come here to me. I need to go out, let him think he has the edge and draw him back to where I can do what I need to do. I feel my forearm where the transponder is under my skin to ensure its still there. As if it wouldn't be. Suddenly I feel nervous, like I did the night I went to see the official in my village. I have to shake this off, it's game time. Taking several deep breaths I feel my heart beat slow down.

"All right, let's go," I whisper to myself to bolster confidence.

Moving stealthily from my refuge I begin to seek out my quarry. The rain's brutal, stinging my face when it hits, causing me to wince involuntarily. Rain brutally pelts me, obscuring my vision then a thought hits me like a hammer.

_Thresh, the storm! They'd never come in here to get me because I'd hear them coming. I can't see or hear a thing!_

Suddenly I'm twirling around crazily, sword thrusting wildly, expecting Cato behind me, fearing him leaping out of every shadow. _They want me dead! They know about my plan! He's coming to kill me, any second it's going to happen._

But how can that be? They may know where I am but they don't know my thoughts. And if I can't see in this storm Cato can't either so he'll be moving cautiously also, though he will be moving. This is too good an opportunity for him not to be. So I need to move too. Lightning flashes again, lighting up the area and I reorient myself after my spastic dance with the shadows. Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm down I prepare to move towards what hopefully is my destiny.

Coming to a edge of the wheat field I move carefully out from my defensive position and into the open, wind and rain whipping me in the face, deafening thunder booming. I realize I can see very little and hear nothing but I trust my instincts. I know the cameras are following me so I need to make it look legit. It doesn't take long and I'm in No Man's Land. Wait a second, the storm's letting up a bit. No, it's letting up a lot and it's even getting lighter somehow. Something's definitely going on here. They're playing with the rules. I curse their manipulation but won't let this cause me to fall apart. Probably they need this so the audience can watch what's happening.

_Wait a second…that must mean… _

Too late I hear a sound behind me as my eyes try to adjust to the changing climate then I feel searing white hot pain. Cato has leapt from cover to successfully stab me with his spear.

"Just you and me big guy," he howls, with a crazed sound to his voice. The strong boy advances with his spear ready to strike.

I need to put some space between us or he's going to skewer me like a fish.

"Come on, fight," Cato screams at me, simultaneously thrusting forward.

_Got to slow him down_.

So pivoting quickly to catch the thrust with my curved sword, I deftly knock it aside then counter with a slash across the chest designed to open him up a bit and allow me to break away. Except the sword slides across Cato's chest like it's encased in steel.

Or armor.

Despite the low light I can see Cato's white teeth gleam in delight. "Like what I got at the Feast?" he gloats then slashes diagonally. "Too bad you dropped it. This would have made you pretty hard to kill. But not now!"

Too late I move, still surprised by this development, and feel the razor sharp blade rip along my chest.

I turn and run, I have no choice, trusting Cato will want to kill me face-to-face to prove he's better than me rather then take the easy kill by harpooning me in the back.

"Stay and fight you coward!" he yells, running after me. "Look at the mighty Thresh run!"

Whatever. At least now we're heading back to where I can do this. I might have to kill him but that's fine. The rain's steadily picking up again as the light drops anew but I can see pretty well. Lighting though flashes with increased regularity which is screwing with my night vision. Doing a quick shoulder check I can still see Cato lumbering behind me unable to match my pace. I can't let him lose sight of me.

My shoulder's getting numb from its wound and my chest is on fire. I don't want to die here, not like this. Resolve begins to course through my veins giving me renewed strength and energy.

I'm able to increase the gap on Cato but not get too far ahead that I lose him. It only takes a few minutes to travel to where I need to be.

The first camera is easy to deal with. I crash into it like I'm having trouble stopping to make my stand. The other two will be trickier.

"Finally…you're going to stop and fight like a man," Cato wheezes, his chest heaving up and down from the run as he catches up.

I catch him off guard by going on the offensive. I hammer him in the chest with the pommel of my sword to knock him off balance then slash across his shins, finding an opening. Cato howls in pain and reflexively counters hitting me in the side of the head with the butt end of his spear. I'm sent reeling and smash into the position of camera two.

One more to go.

Cato's got his bearing and now he methodically moves back and forth using short thrusts to keep me off balance. I parry and thrust myself but neither of us can get an advantage. I'm trying to maneuver to where the last camera is so take my eyes off him for a moment. I pay by missing a savage attack that connects with my thigh. Yelping in pain I pull the spear forward and punch Cato square on the jaw with my free hand sending him reeling. He staggers over to where the last camera is and I pounce, punching him again in the face so he falls back into it.

The audience can't see anything, they're blind. The Gamesmakers will have a contingency plan I'm sure but I've bought myself the window of opportunity. Time to do it. I have to move fast before our puppet masters in the Capital readjust.

With the last bit of energy I have I batter Cato mercilessly, hitting him with my fist, the pommel of the sword, kicking, kneeing. The boy's totally defenseless; I could kill him right now. Instead I let him slump to the ground.

"I give you a chance. Run!"

Cato doesn't think twice but sprints away, looking to regroup, giving me the opportunity I need. In one swift motion I take the sharp edge of my sword and split open my forearm where the tracker was injected. _Be quick Thresh or this won't work_! Digging around I have trouble grabbing hold of it. My mind doesn't register any pain or revulsion, but instead is conscious of the time this is taking while another part prays Cato doesn't come back. Then I have the cursed device. I put it down and smash it with the end of my sword. A few seconds later I think I hear a cannon go off between booms of thunder. It has to be a cannon, I'm trusting it has been anyway.

Good though, in this weather it'll be hard for a hovercraft to come in and retrieve my body if they believe I'm dead. Plus Cato is going for the others so the cameras will be following him. It doesn't matter. Without the tracker they won't be able to find me in this storm even with their other cameras. Now all I need to do is discover the edge of the Arena and a way to get over the force field. The hard part is done.

Maybe not.

The realization I have no clue where to go chills me to the bone more then the deluge of rain has done. I realize in all my planning I'd not thought that far ahead. I don't have long to decide which way to go. The hovercraft is coming; I can hear it through the slackening storm. When they find out I'm alive…well, I don't want to think about that.

_Which way?_ My mind screams, a hint of panic starting to set in.

_Trust your instincts, you were destined for this Nguvu,_ I hear the voice of Staarabu in my mind.

Taking a deep breath, with eyes closed I turn until I feel the smallest of twinge inside of me. This way.

I take off at the run, dodging and weaving in what I hope is a pattern that'll keep me off the camera. Hopefully the people in the control room aren't monitoring this area, focusing instead on the 'triumphant' Cato and his search for the remaining two Tributes. The storm is definitely letting up. It had to have been made to even the playing field and get rid of me. They wanted me gone. So much for my high rating and popularity with the viewers.

As I pick up my pace, desperate to see the shimmer of the force field wall it dawns on me. The announcement. The one about two Tributes from the same district being able to win this time. The pain of knowing Rue could have survived dulled my mind to what this manipulation was about. But no, they're playing the star-crossed lovers from District Twelve story. That's the finale they want. A thought causes me to stop dead in my tracks. I could help them win, help them beat Cato. Should I? What about the plan? But what about avenging Rue and helping one who showed her kindness. Conflict wracks me and I almost turn back.

Then I hear the hovercraft.

What's done is done. I begin to recklessly sprint since in less then five minutes they'll know I'm alive and every camera in the Arena is going to be looking for me.

And every Peacekeeper in the area.

Wounds forgotten I run as fast as my legs will take me to a place I'm not even sure I can find. I'm reminded that the force field is quite strong so if I run into it headlong it'll likely knock me out. Regardless, it's now freedom or death. They've recorded my death for the viewing audience so I no longer exist. It's getting darker; they'll be getting ready to flash my picture up soon.

No, it's getting lighter. They know I'm alive. They're looking for me.

Now my Hunger Games really begins for real, the competition between the Capital and me starts. I'm going to win, I am Thresh, I am a survivor.

_Stay in the thick woods, stay hidden._ I have an advantage. The Capital can't track me anymore. This gives me an edge since they can't function without their technology and toys. Sure, the cameras will be going and they'll likely be slowing down the Games to deal with me but still, I have an edge.

My lungs burn from exertion, the wounds from my encounter with Cato throb but it's all been put aside. Years of waiting, of wanting to break out, make my mark, are channeling into this moment so I actually become faster, stronger.

Is that a hovercraft I see through the foliage of the trees I run under? Is it another? Then a realization hits me. They're likely not blind despite the lack of a tracker in my arm. They'll have thermal imaging or infra red. The hovercraft above seems to be tracking with me.

They've found me.

I can hear voices on the slight breeze. Okay, they're not that close. Good. Press on. Strangely though, the voices don't seem to be closing though the hovercraft still seems to be overhead. Why is that? Then I hear a fearsome howl on the wind, something that scares me like nothing has since entering the Arena.

Mutts.

Or more accurately, Muttations. Evil spawn of twisted minds used to suppress the people like the Tracker Jackers I saw early on in the Games. How twisted is that that these kinds of things could be used for entertainment? But mine are not to entertain. They're to punish. I've broken the rules and a price has to be paid. Instead of merely shooting me, they want to rip me to shreds. I don't exist anymore so they can do whatever they want. The cannon has already fired, Thresh is dead. But I'm not yet. I am Thresh, I am a survivor.

The howls are getting closer. If they catch me I'm finished. From the sound of it there are lots of them. There's no way I can stand and fight though my blood's starting to boil with rage. Every fiber in me wants to throw down with them, to win. But it's not a fair fight. The Capital has made sure of that. No, the moment I stop, I lose. The only way I can win is by running and it makes me madder. Adrenaline surges through my body giving me a burst of speed. I win now by running. But where do I run too? A twinge of panic begins to set in. How close am I to the fence? Can they move it? No, the boundaries have to be static. I just need to find them.

"Run Thresh!" I yell to motivate myself.

I see a flash of grey-black fur in the distance to the right that chills my bones. These things are huge! The gap's closing. I'm not going to make it. The Mutts are going to literally eat me alive. Veering left I try to put some space between us, dodging into thicker foliage. It also slows me down too but I have no choice. They're now hot on my heels behind me and to my right. I'm not going to make it! Another minute or so and they'll be on me.

Something screams at me to stop. Right now!

I dig in my feet sliding to a halt only a few feet from the force field. Something inside had warned me. I've found it. Though I can see through to the other side there's a shimmer that distorts the view and a slight hum emanating from it. My elation is short lived, the Mutts are on me.

Desperately looking around, for what I don't know, the fearsome howling fills the air so I do the only thing I can-I climb a tree. I remember Rue telling me that was the only thing she was good at. Me, I never did it for pleasure and I never ran from a fight in my life. Still, when you have likely a dozen plus crazed creatures hungry for your blood you adapt quickly. The irony escapes me in my desperate attempt to stay alive. I'm up a good ten feet when searing white pain lances through my leg. One of the Mutts has jumped up and bit me on the leg, tearing a large chunk out of my calf muscle. The scream ripping through the air is mine but there's no one around to hear it, no one to see this drama except maybe for some Peacekeepers but they're keeping their distance. The Capital is using these foul beasts to do their dirty work.

Some frenzied Mutts are battering the tree with their heads in an attempt to knock it over while the others take turns jumping up to try to reach me. It'll be over soon. I close my eyes in resignation as the tree shakes. I've done everything I can…

Not everything.

A fresh spark turns into fire. I'm not going to let the Capital kill me this way. I can still win. Looking around I see what I need to do first. Climbing up a few more feet I move out onto a thick limb balancing precariously then without giving the risk a second thought I jump. Grabbing the large branch on the tree beside me I haul myself up, lifting my dangling legs before the Mutts can latch onto the tempting morsel.

Doing a quick scan I'm satisfied this tree is much more solid then the one I was just on. The Mutts howl in outrage at my tactic and move over to the one I'm at now but already I've climbed out of their reach.

Though I can feel the blows of the Mutts renewed attempt to batter the tree down it'll be a while before they can make that kind of impact. I've bought myself a breather. Breather? I realize I'm hardly breathing at all since my heart's beating so hard. Forcing myself to calm down I grab some of the poultice I'd made previously plus some antiseptic ointment dabbing it on my shredded calf muscle then wrapping it tightly with a bandage. I'm glad again I took the First Aid kit at the Cornucopia the first day of the games. It seems like a lifetime ago.

Getting my breathing under control I finally get a chance to look around at where I'm trapped. The force field hums angrily and seems to have intensified. I'm not sure if the Capital has figured out what I'm up to but they seem to be taking precautions. My heart sinks as I see the barrier to freedom goes up as far as the eye can see.

Higher, I need to go higher.

Hand over hand, branch by branch, I climb, reaching as high as I can. Still it's not enough. Looking around I see a taller tree several over and prepare to jump. At least from this height if I fall hopefully I'll die or at least not be conscious when I'm torn to shreds by the Mutts. They seem irrelevant now. In a way I've beaten them, this is now a new game. I've bought some time but I'm not sure how much. This is not a game though for the audience back in the Capital, this is extermination. Will they let the Mutts finish me or call them off and use one of the Hovercrafts or maybe a Peacekeeper sniper? Ah the options. It must be causing the Gamesmakers such distress. Snorting at the macabre thought I'm strangely invigorated by the exercise. Despite the risks and my likely death, despite the manipulation of everything since I've been here, the Capital can't control my thoughts. I'm free to choose how I face this. Hope courses through my veins. I'm not beaten, not yet.

I can hear a hovercraft nearby but can't see it with the tree cover overhead. That's good but instinctively I know I don't have a lot of time. Looking around there seems to be no avenue of escape. The force field shimmers, mocking me. Beyond I can see a forest on the other side. But how to get there?

_Think Thresh think_, I admonish myself, trying to force my beating heart to slow down. Anxiety still swirls inside me but I'm starting to calm myself, looking for options.

Then I see it.

To my right, several trees over, is one that's even bigger and higher then the one I'm in. Better yet, it's closer to the barrier, a mighty oak tree that looks like some of it's branches may be above the top of the force field. This is it, I have to try.

Timing my jump since the howling Mutts continue to batter savagely away at the tree, I wait for the rhythm of their shaking. In between concussions I jump to the first tree, easily making it. Climbing a bit higher to get ready for my next leap I spot a Hovercraft through the trees seemingly monitoring the situation. This brings a fresh realization. Looking at the next tree I need to go to in order to make my jump I figure I'll be totally exposed to the Peacekeepers in a way I haven't been yet. When I make my next move I'll have to make the jump to the other side fast with no time for calculating. I try to see if the limb I've picked out really is above the force field but I'm not sure from my angle. I'm below it so the perspective could be wrong. Plus I realize the tree I'm jumping from is above the ones on the other side so I'll be in a bit of a free fall. Doubt begins to crowd into my mind.

The Mutts seem to be confused about what to do, or maybe they're pulling back. Something's up with them. They're not battering at this tree anymore. Voices carry in the breeze coming closer. Harsh voices, shouting things I can't quite make out. I hear the turbine engines of the nearby hovercraft whine into action. They're coming for me. It has to be now.

I can see on the other side dusk is coming while on my side it's still light. Good, they can't manipulate things over there. It's now or never.

Closing my eyes and taking three deep breaths I concentrate, focusing on what's to come. In my mind I picture the sequence so it'll flow smoothly. I rotate my neck back and forth, cracking it slightly, gripping the branch I'm standing on, preparing myself.

_I am Thresh, I am a survivor_, I whisper to myself.

Scrambling as quickly as I can up another fifteen feet I then turn and run off the branch, praying it'll hold my weight. The leap takes less then a second when I crash into the bigger tree, clutching it in a bear hug. Hand over hand I move further up this taller tree, eyes fixed on the thick branch on the other side. It seems like it's above the force field, it has to be. No turning back now.

I break through the cover of the forest and hear the hovercraft nearby surge into action. No matter, I'm at the spot I need to be, shimmying over to the branch where I'm going to make my jump. A machine gun on the hovercraft opens fire, bullets hit the tree trunk chewing up bark at the spot I was seconds earlier. But already I'm running on branch on the other side getting ready to make my jump as they readjust their position for another shot.

Then I'm free falling.

The sensation is exhilarating. I'm unhindered and floating in the air. The hovercraft opens fire again, trying to find its mark as I crash into the top of the forest on the other side. I'm out of the Arena! The thought registers in my mind like a flash. I'm free, free of the Hunger Games and free of the Capital. I bounce off the first tree and madly claw in every direction for something to hold on to. Mind focused I don't hear the bullets buzzing all around me. Fortunately I fall into the canopy of the forest which swallows me up. Then I grab hold of a branch. Luckily my shoulder doesn't dislocate from the sudden jerk as I stop and bang face first into the rough bark.

I take just a moment to soak in the reality of the situation. I've made it across the force field; I'm out of the Arena. Bullets from the hovercraft's machine gun continue to hiss all around. I'm not out of danger yet.

Jumping to another tree, then another, I try to move away from their cone of fire scrambling to the ground as quick as I can. Before I know it I'm standing on spongy loam in a thick forest. Here the Hovercraft is shrouded again and their bullets can't reach the ground. Though they may still have infrared or other sensors I wonder how effective all that will be outside the arena. As soon as I find some mud I'll cover myself to make me harder to track. I've learned my survival tactics well. A smile breaks out on my face as I begin to jog through the forest away from the Arena. Though it could change any minute I've won, I've beaten the Capital and won my Hunger Games. Though the Peacekeepers may catch me, or more Mutts, or I could trip and fall and break my neck, I've gained my freedom. I will die eventually here or of old age, that's an inevitability, but today I've cheated death and the odds makers. Stopping for a moment, throwing caution to the wind, I grin wider, throw my head back and yell in victory, "I am Thresh, I am a survivor!"

**-The end –**

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my short take on what 'really' happened to Thresh. The Hunger Games is such a deep tale and so pertinent to our times today. There are so many stories that could come out of this world and its characters. I trust my contribution added to the rich tapestry. May the hope that Thresh took into the arena be something that encourages you to look at whatever 'arena' you are facing in your life so you too might win.

Best wishes,

Chris

March 4, 2013


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